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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503357">Chinese Wall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity'>stateofintegrity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atonement [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MASH (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Mention of War Crimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:08:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26503357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another sequel to Chinese Medicine. In this version, Klinger leaves the 4077th to allow Charles to heal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atonement [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chinese Wall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/gifts">peaceloveandjocularity</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To the best of his abilities, Major Charles Emerson Winchester III had granted the request of the Corporal he had unwittingly led into danger and unwillingly harmed several months ago. He tried to feel better. He sometimes succeeded. And if his dreams were sometimes as dark as the eye of a Japanese viper, that seemed a small penance, considering what he’d done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could put them in the coffee,” said Hunnicutt. “Purple hides a multitude of sins… and synthetic powders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk gave him a disapproving look. “You don’t put sleeping pills in coffee, Beej! Didn’t they teach you anything in medical school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mustachioed surgeon shrugged. “After ‘say ah,’ I kind of tuned out. And we know he’ll drink coffee. You can’t say that for the food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger sat down across from the pair. “What are you working on this evening, sirs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>BJ’s face went still; Hawk’s was sympathetic. BJ would have liked to have lied, to spare the Corporal. With Hawk beside him, though, he knew it wouldn’t be possible. Hawk was many things, but indirect wasn’t one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trying to figure out how to talk Charles into sleeping pills,” said Hunnicutt, knowing that if he didn’t speak, Hawkeye would. Technically, they were past talking and into we-might-just-inject-you-with-this, but Klinger didn’t need that piece of the puzzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nightmares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair nodded and watched a shadow move across his eyes. “Nightmares about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded again and saw Klinger brace against the gesture like a blow. “I forgave him, sirs. You know I did. I meant it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know,” said Hawk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he doesn’t believe me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple,” said Hunnicutt. “Sidney’d be able to explain it, probably. He’s… afraid, I think. He learned he could do something he never thought he could do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t do it!” Klinger protested. “You weren’t there, Captain, but the only other choice ended in body bags.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klinger, there might be some part of Charles that thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the right choice,” Pierce said softly and Hunnicutt glared at him despite their friendship. The goal had been to help one friend, not send another down into the dark to join him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. So you think he won’t talk to me, won’t come around me, because he wishes I was dead? Is that right, sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunnicutt thought about stabbing his best friend with a fork. It was a minor injury that he could easily tend after he got done being furious with him. “That isn’t what he means, Klinger.” He’d seen Klinger’s eyes go diamond shiny under a gloss of tears before but not this quickly. “Winchester’s feeling guilty, is all. He’ll find his way back out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger pushed himself away from the table. “I know what you sound like when you lie, Captain. You don’t do it very often and you’re not good at it. You think he might make it back out, but you don’t think he’ll ever be able to look my way without that gut-shot look in his eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye looked as agonized as Klinger did. “Where are you going, Klinger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To fix this.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And, if I can’t, to fill out a request for a transfer. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger had grown up in a tough neighborhood with a tough father. He didn’t attempt to escape his problems. He’d been willing to grant Charles whatever time he needed; he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> willing to lose him for good. He approached the surgeon in his tent and his heart broke out in a cold sweat when he saw fear enter the eyes of the other man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be the thing that ruins your life, Major,” he said without preamble. “I can’t be the reason you can’t sleep. You asked me once if I wanted you to leave the 4077th. So, I’m asking now. Do you need me to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me what you do need. You won’t talk to me. You can barely look at me. We’re only ever even in the same place if we </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be. I’m not educated like you, sir, but I’m not stupid, either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>your problem, so tell me how to make this right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is fine, Corporal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger sat in Hawkeye’s chair. “I’d say ‘nice try,’ but you aren’t even trying. I’ve seen my share of animals hit on the road, so if you’re going to look at me with those dead dog eyes, step up your game and lie better. I don’t think it’ll work, but it’d be better than this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winchester was startled unto shaking. He’d never heard Klinger come close to being mean. “You cannot speak to me that way. I outrank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Begging your pardon, sir, but if anyone here has ever earned the right to say whatever they want to you, it’s me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winchester went ghost white; even his eyes paled. “You can’t hold that against me!?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t. But you’re holding it between us, pushing me away. Captain Pierce says you wish I was dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had confessed something similar. Klinger saw it in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, this is easy then. I’ll have Potter move me to the 8063rd. You won’t have to see me again. Feel better, Major.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye smoothed a cool rag over his forehead as he came back from the darkness of his dreams. When Charles could sleep again, he went to the office and sat looking at the phone, debating. He knew Potter would hear and heed his recommendation… but Charles was going to be hurt, to say nothing of angry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All these years of medicine and I still don’t like the idea of </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>causing </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>pain to heal pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He placed the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, a new surgeon arrived at the 4077th to take the place of Charles Emerson Winchester III, who had been bumped from the rotation by the Chief Surgeon… until such time as he agreed to speak with Dr. Sidney Freedman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was sulking when Sidney came to speak with him; employing a touch of imagination, Sidney transformed the tall, broad man into a bear with a thorn in his paw… and that thorn was from, he suspected, a very interesting sort of rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are aware that I loathe psychiatry as a profession,” Charles said by way of greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re here under protest, got it. But since you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, don’t you think we should use the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the Colonel and Captain Pierce - who needs your services far more than I do now or ever will believe I am owed release - ought I not to be discharged from this hell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you want?” He paused, read the man’s exhausted eyes. “Section 8?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be clever, doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mother would say I can’t help it. Do you think we ought to discuss our resident section 8 seeker, you and I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Former resident,” Charles corrected. “The Corporal is stationed at the 8063rd which, for all I know, was bombed off of the face of this ugly continent last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re worried about him,” Sidney translated. “About what might happen if he’s out of your sight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles made a noncommittal gesture. “It was when he was under my eyes that he suffered most.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you still blame yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I was in love with him. I knew it was wrong. So, apparently, did the world and the war and fate, as I became the instrument of his pain and now can represent nothing to him but terror and agony.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you, Major. And I know how to read a medical report. You could no more intentionally cause that boy any form of ‘agony’ than you could cut your own fingers off. If anything, I am sure that, loving him as you do, you did all you could to prevent his pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loving him as I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As I was wrong to do. And it wasn’t enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know this, Major, but the reason I’m over here in this garden spot we all enjoy so much is that war crimes are something of a specialty of mine. Right off the top of my head, I can tell you just how common your experience is. And, Major, you won’t like to hear it, but Klinger was lucky. If you had said no, someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>have taken your place. Men have been tortured to death in similar situations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought about the sound death makes in the lungs. They call it a rattle but it’s something quite different… a soul unhitching itself from its posts, perhaps… I thought about the light bleeding out of his eyes, the silent extinction of the singular constellations that exist there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So let me see if I understand . You made your choices - painful, impossible as they were - predicated on the hope of preserving the stars in his eyes, Major. Would Klinger - and we both know the size of that heart - excoriate you for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! But he should! Doctor,” and wasn’t the shift in title interesting? “I… I almost  wish him … lobotomized if it would remove my memory from him… from his mind… and his body.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I and my and me,” Sidney said then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Subjectivity as poetry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you ask him, your best friend if I remember right, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>wished the burden of your soul removed from his shoulders? He’s a strong little thing, even in heels. It may even be the case that he wishes you to be more of a burden.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He misses you, Major. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’ eyes kindled - became the kind of pale, blue flames that danced, in folklore at least, over buried treasure; Sidney didn’t doubt that the Major kept some of the best parts of himself buried. Nor did he doubt that the person best suited to unearthing and adoring those parts was one Maxwell Q. Klinger - Corporal and couturier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles made an anguished sound; it was the sound of some pretty thing that had been trapped for its fur when it saw the shadow of a man with a club or a knife. “If he could… if he does… it’s only because of my crime. He would have never looked my way on his own. As much time as I have devoted to watching his eyes, I would know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Major, I need you to know that I got permission for what I am about to say. Every syllable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Permission from whom?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My second favorite patient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first being Pierce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s hard to outdo. The Groucho glasses, you know? As for Max - well, we’re both discerning men of the world - what do you think his best look is, Major? I’m partial to the black blouse with that skirt trimmed with white lace. Reminds me of my favorite lady patients. They’re kind, they smell nice, but they refuse to believe they are well. A man can get very rich with such ladies on his dance card.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My favorite look of the Corporal’s was once fatigues paired with those delicate, pale tops of his… now… now I just want to see him happy and well, his eyes passing over mine without recognition, free of pain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Corporal Klinger would appreciate your easy acceptance, I think, of his desire, expressed through stitches, to exist between two genders. He wouldn’t appreciate the contradiction in your wish, however. You’re the only one that sees him as he wishes to be seen - and accepts. Would you take that from him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Major Winchester, I have it on the authority of three doctors, a priest, one head nurse, and the man himself that Klinger must’ve sensed your surgical specialty somehow, because you got his heart the week you got here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want him happy and well? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Make</span>
  </em>
  <span> him that way. Take care of him. Keep him safe. Write right over his ugly memories. And take him home.” He hummed a bit of the wedding march. “Til death do you part and all that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Major, true love given in equal measure by both parties is something of a rarity from what I’ve seen. Do you want to sit here coming up with problems and reasons this can’t work? Or do you want to take the jeep I brought here, drive up to the 8063rd and retrieve the love of your life?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles turned his hand over, palm up. Sidney gave him the keys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No romance novel heroine had ever looked as fetching as Klinger did, standing in the motor pool of the 8063rd, soft marigold skirt made to be bunched in long, strong surgeon’s fingers, flowers in hair Charles longed to take, damp, around his fingers until it held a curl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wind is cold,” he said stupidly, hurrying to drape Maxwell’s shoulders with his jacket. “Do you not own sweaters, wraps, <em>and</em> house coats?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I packed in a hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To spare me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your eyes have been awful, Major.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are they now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little clearer."

"You talked to Sidney?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. It was true?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is real</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left my collection behind - that doesn’t say love to you?” But then he gentled, touched his cheek, fingers softer than a kiss. “I should have told you when I woke up. I didn’t mean to leave you hurting. I just… I didn’t want you to feel stuck with me either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get in the jeep, Maxwell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more nightmares?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With you in my arms?” Inside the vehicle, Charles joined their hands. “Let’s go home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maxwell knew that he meant the 4077th - but only for now. Holy Boston didn’t roll off the tongue as well as Holy Toledo, but he’d adjust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>End! </span>
</p>
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